


Light

by araliya



Series: The Siken Diaries [9]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: A meteor shower date.





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> Light - Sleeping At Last

_The lawn drowned, the sky on fire,_ _  
_ _the gold light falling backward through the glass_ _  
_ _of every room. I'll give you my heart to make a place_ _  
_ _for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger._ _  
_ _Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars_ _  
_ _for you? That I would take you there? The splash_ _  
_ _of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?_ _  
_ _-_ _  
_ _We were in the gold room where everyone_ _  
_ _finally gets what they want, so I said What do you_ _  
_ _want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am_ _  
_ _leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome_ _  
_ _burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack,_   
my silent night, just mash your lips against me.

 _  
_ _We are all going forward. None of us are going back._

 

_-Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain_

“Take my hand.”

 

Darren’s fingers close around his as they tug him up and over the lip of the car door opening. Chris clambers over with a little _oof_ , any semblance of grace or elegance muffled by the hundred layers he’s swathed in. California desert nights are unforgivingly cold, and though his ancestry means he’s more partial to snow than sun, Chris’ skin still pales and ripples with goosebumps.

 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” he mutters, and Darren’s eyes glitter in the darkness.

 

They’ve spread a blanket over the roof of the rental (a garish, sand-coloured SUV), laying flat on their backs as their feet, pointing northwest, dangle over the windshield.

 

“I wanted to take you away,” Darren says, and Chris looks over to him. His eyes are inky umber in the darkness, illuminated only by the stars overhead. They are so numerous that it almost seems like there are more stars than sky, smattered across the deep blue until they concentrate in a glowing band that tears through the middle of it.

 

Darren turns his head and Chris leans over to press a kiss to his lips. They are cold from the biting wind, and he chases Chris’ mouth when he pulls away.

 

Chris hates that it has to be like this. Like they have to steal time that should belong to them in the first place, like there’s a Best Before date plastered over their heads. Like Chris has to make the most of holding Darren in his arms until he’s invariably pulled away, for god knows how long, until they can crawl back under the same sheets again.

 

“The last time I was here, I saw the Perseids.”

 

Darren’s quiet voice breaks through the silence, and their hands find each other between their bodies.

 

“It was with Chuck and the band. They were looking for inspiration for the album.”

 

“The first one?” Chris asks, and Darren smiles. It’s the one Chris likes the most- with its lilting notes and winding rhythm, it’s the one they sometimes play during lazy evenings while they work.

 

“Yeah. The Perseids are probably the most popular meteor showers, mostly because the weather’s so much better when they come around. I’ll take you to see them if you like.”

 

“When?”

 

“Mid-year? We’ll find the time.”

 

They will. They always do.

 

Chris turns inwards a little and watches as this year’s Quadrantids fall, thin as needles as they cut across the stars. They are few and far between, but beautiful nonetheless, and Chris resists the temptation to wish upon every one of them.

 

The wish would always the same, anyway.

 

“My nose is so frozen I think you could snap it off,” Chris whispers, and then regrets it (not really) when Darren leans over him to press a thousand hot kisses to the red skin.

 

“You’re blocking the stars, D,” he says, when Darren finally lets off, breathless.

 

“Frostbite is a very real thing,” Darren replies seriously, one hand on either side of Chris’ head. Chris pushes weakly against his chest, and accepts one last kiss before Darren flops down again next to him.

 

“But seriously,” he says, “if it’s getting too cold, we can go back.”

 

Chris hooks an ankle over Darren’s and rests his head on his shoulder. If he concentrates really hard he thinks he can feel the warmth seeping from Darren’s skin through the clothes.

 

“No. I want to be able to remember this when we go back home”

 

“The stars?” Darren asks.

 

“Everything. The stars, the cold, the goddamn squeaky tires on this rental-”

 

Darren snorts, and Chris knows that he’s remembering stolen hours of wandering hands and the imprints of the leather seats on their skin.

 

A Quarantid flashes overhead, a flaring pinprick of light as it appears and disappears.

 

“I want to remember what we have- what it’s _like_ ,” he continues, “when there’s nothing holding us back, nothing at all.”

 

Chris closes his eyes, and makes a wish.


End file.
